It's beautiful,
the sun rising.
It's beautiful,
the sun setting.
For how it coloured the sky,
into a combination,
of rose quartz and serenity.
For every time,
the colour changed.
It's beautiful,
how I thought of them.
For every time,
I stare at the pantone sky,
and paint colour in my eyes,
ㅡ I know, they felt the same.

A broken heart
I would welcome
If truth be told

Over a heart
That would become
Unfeeling... Cold.

"She was an
unusual dresser.
Every night,
she wore bruises
on her heart,
love on her lips,
pain in her eyes,
and ink on her fingers.
They called her poetry."

The cross made of ash
on the forehead:
a reminder of the love
given to us
for eternity.

Of all days,
It is this day that
we celebrate love.
But why not everyday?

Seeing how
we were from dust
and to dust
we shall return.

Before we are burnt to ashes
and return to dust,
may Love burn
brighter than any star we can find.

May we know
Love's true value
before throwing it
to the flames.

As I scribble all the the questions I want to ask you
I slowly die inside knowing that I if I have trouble saying hi
how am I going to ask you the questions on my mind